“If you insist. Dinner first, and then …” Her eyebrows raise. I love how honest she is about how she’s feeling and what she wants. No pretence.
“And then… all the dirty things,” I agree.
“Promise?”
“Scout’s honour.” I hold up three fingers.
By the time we reach the restaurant, which, as Will promised, is moody yet modern, we seem to have overcome our initial awkwardness. Maybe it’s the dimness in the car. Or maybe it’s simply Lulu. She’s a conversational gymnast, jumping from topic to topic with ease and grace. By the time dinner is over, I’m left in no doubt about her views on the world—which I’m surprised to find are similar to mine. We jump from climate change to social justice to funding for the arts. We agree, and we disagree. We debate—sometimes heatedly. Sometimes I concede, and sometimes she does. It’s cerebral foreplay like I have never experienced before. So many firsts with this woman. I ignore the clanging of alarm bells and relax into Lulu’s company.
All throughout dinner, physical tension is ever present. Our hands touch, our knees brush under the table, our eyes lock. All of it is raising my temperature, and by the time we’re on our way back to her place, the pressure in my trousers is uncomfortable and every inch of my skin feels tight. I don’t want to pounce on her like I did over the weekend. More than once. I’d like to take my time. But I’m not sure that’s on the cards.
Chapter Eighteen
Lulu
Nickisasurprisepackage. A bit like the kids’ game pass the parcel. He’s quiet and serious, yes, but every layer I peel back reveals a little unexpected treasure. I’ve always believed I was open-minded and not judgemental, but it feels like I was judgemental where Nick was concerned. He’s not what I had imagined him to be. He’s funny—in a wonderfully dry way—and thoughtful and compassionate in his views. Even when we disagree and the discussion turns heated, he listens and appreciates alternative points of view. And the sexual tension is off the charts. By the time we’re stepping out of the lift, my knickers are wet, my nipples are hard and my skin is on fire. I hope he doesn’t want a nightcap—unless it’s a big taste of me.
I tidied up the apartment this afternoon. There are even fresh sheets on the bed and a full box of condoms in the bedside drawer, in case he decides he wants to use them. As it turns out, I can’t wait to make it to the bed. No sooner has the door clanged shut than I’m grabbing the lapel of his very expensive suit and dragging him in for a kiss. Nick doesn’t seem to mind as I peel his clothes off where he stands and we christen the kitchen bench. We get as far as the shower for round two before finally finishing up in bed.
Nick doesn’t say much most of the time, but in bed, he all of a sudden becomes Chatty Kathy. Dirty Chatty Kathy. I can’t believe how much the things he says turn me on. As we drowse, spooning in my cosy bed, I can’t help but bring it up.
“You have a filthy, dirty mouth on you, Mr. Pierce. It’s real a surprise to be honest.”
“It surprises me too.” He chuckles. “It’s not something I’ve done before. You must bring out the sex fiend in me, I guess. Does it offend you?” His fingers drift lightly up and down my abs.
“Nuh-uh. Quite the opposite. I’ve never been with anyone who talks like that during sex. I like it. I like it a lot.” I can feel his cock stirring against my arse, and push back slightly, encouraging him.
“You keep that up and you’ll be getting another filthy, dirty mouthful.” His hand slips lower, brushing the flesh at the top of my thighs.
“Amouthful,huh? What a good idea.”
I turn to face him, pushing him onto his back and straddling his thighs, my lips starting at his nipples and moving down across his ribcage and belly before skirting across his hip, nipping and sucking at the pale skin.
“Jesus Christ,” he moans. “For God’s sake, stop teasing and suck my cock, woman.” His hips are already lifting off the bed, his cock hard and leaking pre-cum.
“Patience, patience,” I murmur, my lips brushing close, but not close enough. Shooting him a quick grin, I relent and drop my lips to the tip of his cock, kissing the swollen head before sliding down as far as I can go.
“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” he gasps as he scoops up my hair in one hand. I start to suck harder, scraping my teeth gently on his length. I can feel this belly and thighs quivering and know he won’t last much longer.
“Yes, yes, yes. I’m going to come in your mouth, beautiful. Will you swallow it?”
I nod, taking him as far back in my throat as I can, and then he’s thrusting, his hand tangled in my hair as he shouts, garbled words falling from his mouth as cum shoots down my throat.
“So fucking good. So fucking beautiful.”
I wipe my hand across my mouth, picking up the dribble of cum from my bottom lip, and grin. He’s boneless on the mattress, face flushed, hair damp with sweat, an expression of complete abandon on his face. I feel a surge of pride. I did this to him. This man, who is so reserved and careful in the rest of his life, completely relaxes and abandons himself to me.
“You’ve got a bit of a dirty mouth on you yourself.” His grin is open and lazy.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh, it is, beautiful, it is.”
I lay down beside him, and he pulls me into his chest. I don’t know where we stand on the whole sleeping over thing—especially on a work night—but Nick doesn’t seem to be planning to move any time soon.
As if reading my mind, he presses his lips to my hair. “Are you okay with me staying, or would you prefer me to go?”
“No, I’d like you to stay. If you want to.”
